Beneath Ice and Stars
by Back2backAgain
Summary: An AU where Elsa remains at her ice castle. Anna must deal with ruling Arendelle in her sister's absence, and her feelings for both Hans and Kristoff. Elsa is pursued by a villain wielding the power of fire, and a mysterious boy from our world appears in theirs. Can bonds of love prove to Elsa that she doesn't have to be the monster she fears? LOOKING FOR CO-WRITER, DETAILS INSIDE.
1. Chapter 1

**I**

**Elsa**

Elsa was having nightmares again. She really shouldn't be surprised, seeing as they came every night, always the same. She knew them all by heart now. But the terror is fresh every single time. She's eight years old again, holding Anna in the empty ballroom as she slowly turns cold as ice. But this time her parents never come, they never make it to the trolls. Instead this time she holds Anna alone, watches her freeze as she cries. Then it's ten years later, and she watches with horror from the window of her rooms in the palace as her parents' ship slowly rolls over from the force of the storm. She cries out, sobs, but it happens all the same. She's alone, sobbing in her room, when they appear to her. Judging her with silent glares, for not even leaving her room to attend their funeral. But she can't leave. She has to conceal it, she can't let it show. But then it does get out three years later, and suddenly she's back at the night of her coronation, everyone in the ballroom staring at her in shock and fear. Judging her as a monster. And Anna. The worst is Anna, her own sister , staring at her with fear in her eyes. So she runs, but there's too many people outside, all expecting so much of her. _Her_ people. But Anna and the duke from the ballroom pursue her, and suddenly they're _all_ afraid, the babe in his mother's arms wailing in front of her and the father drawing his children close to him fearfully.

So she escapes, she runs away. Here in the mountains she is safe. Until Anna comes after her. Until she learns she has doomed the kingdom she loves, the kingdom she was supposed to rule and protect, to an eternal winter. They don't understand that she doesn't know how to make it stop, so she does the only thing she can: she hides from the world again. She has Marshmallow throw them out, and hides deep in her castle. But they still come after her. Hans and his men, with torches and swords. Her own Royal Guard, come to slay the monster and rescue the princess Anna. In real life, they couldn't reach her. Marshmallow protected her, and she was safe inside the strong gates of her castle. But in the nightmares, they beat down the doors and rush after as she runs up the stairs. She can hear them behind her, and they chase her to the very heart of her castle. She turns and sees them, lifting their crossbows, raising their swords, and she acts. And suddenly she is the monster she's always feared she's become, and she turns every single one to ice as they try to run. But then they're all Anna and she wails in despair as she realizes she has hurt the only person left in the world to her.

Gasping, she wakes and bolts upright from her bed of crystal ice sheets, covered in a thin sheen of sweat. She realizes she's gripping the cover sheets and panting heavily, and she tries to calm herself down. But the terror is still there, so stark. The ice around her is a deep shade of red, reflecting her fear. It's something she still doesn't understand, but all it does now is fuel her fear. She brings her hands to her face and takes deep breaths, gripping her braid. She closes her eyes, and sees her father standing before her again. She remembers his words, and then conceals, doesn't feel it anymore. But here, in her place of safety, she can let it show. She can be who she really is. Shuddering, but not from the cold, she picks herself out of her bed and walks through the doors from her bedchamber into a small icy hallway. She walks swiftly, brushing past the crystal mosaics of her parents, of the icy bouquets of roses she created and lied on the shelves before them. She enters the heart of her castle, the crystal chandelier twinkling and spinning softly above her. To the left stairs lead to the main entrance hall and courtyard of her castle, and to the right a hallway leading to more bedrooms, one of which occupied by Olaf.

The snowman had returned to the castle after he had accompanied Anna and her new friend back to Arendelle after she had driven them away. He had brought a letter of love from Anna, and a plea to restore summer. But she couldn't, and she had almost sent him away. But he helped ease the loneliness here, even made her laugh sometimes. She couldn't hurt him with her powers. But he also scared her. He was a reminder of what her powers could do, somehow create _life_. And that terrified her, made her wonder else they could do.

She pushed open the doors that lead to her balcony overlooking the mountain range and stood silently at the railing, wrapping her arms around herself. Why was it so hard for her to be happy? She had thought she might have a chance, here at her castle. But then the nightmares came. No, she would never be happy. She couldn't be close to Anna, she couldn't be close to anyone. She could never love anyone without hurting them. A single tear trickled down her cheek and she watched it fall and spiral off into the abyss of the mountainside beyond the railing. There was no one to see her cry here. Sighing, she stared off into the snowstorm that blanketed the mountainside. Deadly, but not to her. And beautiful in a way. She hoped she was beautiful. Anna had said she was. But she hoped she was really beautiful on the inside. She was certainly deadly. She shivered again. She would _not_ become a monster.

Suddenly, her eyes were drawn back to the storm. A blazing light had appeared , that which could only be fire. And it was moving steadily towards her. She felt as if someone had grasped her heart as she felt a fresh wave of fear coming over her. Someone was coming for her.

**Anna**

Anna stared out at the North Mountain from the window of her room at the palace. The icy winds swirled outside, and the courtyard below her was covered in a thick down of snow. If it weren't for the fire burning brightly beside her, she would be freezing. Elsa was out there. Had she gotten her letter? She was sure Olaf had delivered it. She still missed the little snowman, but she couldn't deny it would be good for Elsa to have someone who cared for her close at hand. She wished she could be there with her.

It had all made so much sense once Elsa revealed her powers, why she had locked herself away for thirteen years. She wanted so badly to go to Elsa, to explain to her that she understood, and wanted to help her. But she had already tried, and Elsa had unknowingly frozen her heart. And that had brought about a whole another problem.

She still remembered visiting Kristoff's family, and learning that her only chance was an act of true love. Kristoff had raced her back to Arendelle, but before he had delivered her to Hans, the man had kissed her! And what terrified her was that it had broken the curse. Kristoff loved her! And she was promised to another man! She'd been so upset that she'd sent him away, never mind that he might have saved her life. Another five minutes and she'd have been safe with Hans. The horrifying thing was, she wasn't sure how she felt about Kristoff either. She obviously hadn't told Hans any of this, but her mind had been racing over it non-stop since she returned to the palace two weeks ago. And above all, the problem with Elsa.

Sighing, she turned to the fireplace and shifted the logs until only a few embers remained. She walked back to her bed and lay her head down. Arendelle looked to her, and she could think about was her sister and the two men who loved her. It was all too serious for her. What in the world was she going to do?

**Tristan**

Tristan was cold. That pretty much summed up the gist of it. Leaving out the fact of course, that an hour ago he'd been safe at home, and now he was standing in the middle of snowstorm in God knows where in only sneakers, jeans, and a sweatshirt. One instant standing on the beach, the next on top of a mountain. It sounded crazy. He was pretty sure the whole teleportation thing had something to do with the strange ice crystal in his left pocket, but he tried not to think about that. Thinking about it meant realizing he was in the middle of nowhere with no food or water, probably had frostbite by now, and had just freaking teleported. And that all sounded pretty crazy. He didn't like the idea of being crazy, so he decided to focus on one thing. And above all else, he was cold. So he just thought about that.

He trudged through a particularly deep snowbank, shivering with his arms wrapped around his chest in a vain effort to stay warm. He'd been dealing with this snowstorm for what felt like hours on end, trying to figure out where he was. So far, the closest he got was that he was on a really tall mountain. And that was about it. So it was a particularly strange surprise when he finally managed to struggle to the top of a ridge and find an enormous ice castle seemingly crafted into the mountainside, spanning the gap over an endless abyss to a valley below.

Frowning, he squinted at it. He was pretty sure mirages only happened in deserts so he probably wasn't seeing things. And if he was hallucinating, he'd definitely be visualizing a warm Jacuzzi and a hot chocolate instead of a giant piece of ice, albeit one expertly crafted into a castle. Someone obviously had way too much time on their hands. Besides, if there was a magic teleporting ice crystal why not a castle made of ice in the middle of nowhere?

Most invitingly though, was a brilliant flare of light from the castle's gates. Light meant fire or electricity, and that meant warmth. Grinning, and rubbing his hands together, he started down the slope. He tripped and fell a couple times, but he picked himself up and kept going. He refused to give up with a fire only a couple hundred feet away. He did allow himself to wish for a pair of skis about a hundred times though. Soon enough he had reached a tunnel full of sharp icy daggers pointing down from the ceiling and walls. He gave a low whistle. Not a very nice place, unless he was looking to get himself impaled. Picking his way carefully through the path, he noticed his fingers were starting to look a bit blue. He anxiously picked up his pace and rounded a corner beside an icy wall that lead up to one final icy hill before the fire and castle. He could definitely go for a Jacuzzi and some hot chocolate right now. He rushed up the final bluff towards the brilliant light, and stopped dead.

The castle glittered before him, enormous in size and scope, but that wasn't what took his breath away. Small gouts of fire and flickers of flame caressed the entire hill, but he didn't feel their warmth over his shock. It wasn't the half melted monster of a snowman lying beside the staircase before him either, feebly still waving a monstrous clawed hand covered in icy spikes. Instead it was the man robed in a deep dark red before him looking up at the castle, whisps of flame curling up from his hands and flaring with faint hisses in the face of the oppressing storm. He let out a half-strangled gasp at the sight before him. At that sound, the man before him turned his hooded head, and Tristan found himself staring into eyes of fire surrounded by a dark face shrouded in the shadow of the stranger's hood.

The fire flared, and the man strode menacingly toward him. Tristan felt himself hauled up by his throat, and his feet kicked feebly in the air. He began to sweat as heat rolled off the man in furious waves, and couldn't tear his eyes away from the man's gaze of fire.

Rising him above the ground, the man growled, "Where is the Snow Queen?"

Tristan stared at the man, who growled and hurled him across the snowy field. He grunted as he hit the tightly packed snow, his body crying out in pain. He moaned and struggled to scramble unsteadily to his feet. He looked up back towards the castle to see something so horrifying it made his fifth grade math teacher look like an angel in comparison.

The man clothed in blood red robes strode toward him, the snow melting away from where his feet touched the rock of the mountain in rushes of water that spilled out over the ice. Ribbons of a sickly fire fountained out of the man's palms, traveling up and down his bare arms as if they were fresh kinder. While he saw this all, he couldn't tear his gaze away from the man's face. From those awful pits of fire that lead Tristan believe that he wasn't really a man at all, but a monster. And this said monster was very, _very_ angry.

"Where is she?" he roared, "Where?"

Tristan stumbled backward, shivering, and not just from the cold, "Who?"

"The Snow Queen!" the monster roared back, advancing forward, "Have I finally found her? Is she here?"

Tristan blinked and then stumbled as his foot caught on a rock jutting out of the snow, "The Snow _Queen_? Are you crazy dude? This is America! We don't have a queen."

The thing growled, and Tristan remember that he didn't actually know _where_ he was. And what he said had only made the man even angrier, if that was possible.

"Okay, wait," he began again, but then cut off as the man swung his arm toward him from a few paces away. A ribbon of fire suddenly blossomed from the man's palm, and it rushed forward. Tristan frantically threw up his left arm in front of him and then screamed as it hit, forcing him back to the icy ground of the mountain. There were several moments of pain as Tristan felt the fire twisting around him, branding itself into the flesh of his arm. He shuddered and curled up against himself in the snow, and felt tears spring unbidden to his eyes.

The man walked forward contemptuously, and Tristan felt himself being held up in the air for the second time by the throat. As he was lifted up, he caught sight of his arm, red and covered in violent sores and burns in the shape of some strange pattern along his forearm. His shirt was burned away on the left side, and he gasped as the icy air struck his burning skin. The man nodded, taking his gasp for pain.

"Yesss," he hissed, "it hurts, doesn't it? I can promise you much more pain if you do not answer my question. Is she here?"

Tristan closed his eyes, struggling to keep himself from losing consciousness.

The man growled and brought him closer to those terrible, fiery eyes, "ANSWER ME!"

An idle thought crossed his mind over how strange it was, that even this close, the man's face was still covered in shadow. The man's grip tightened, and Tristan shuddered, and then decided to do something extremely stupid. He spat in the man's face, and struggled to free himself from the hand at his throat. The man flinched away, but didn't stumble or lose his grip. Instead he roared back in Tristan's face, revealing another burning pit in the back of his throat where his mouth should be. So Tristan spit in there too. The monster choked, and threw Tristan back, stumbling and bring up a hand incredulously to his mouth. Then he howled in fury and dashed forward.

Tristan just barely managed to get to his feet in time and dived to the left just as a fiery fist flew over his head where he had been a split-second before. But that didn't stop another fist wreathed in flames from crashing into his right side and sending him hurtling across the mountain side. He gasped and rolled across the snow finally coming to rest nearby the chasm gapped by the castle beside him. He lay panting on his back, sucking in air between breaths, as the man strode toward him. But then, surprisingly, he walked past him towards the staircase leading to the castle.

The man paused and then turned the two fiery pits shrouded in his hood towards him, "I promised to make you suffer, peasant. Watch as I begin by burning your Queen."

The man seemed to take a deep breath and gather himself, and then he suddenly threw out both of his hands and an impossibly, bright, violent fire gushed forward. The fire roared in a jet of flame, rushing to meet those icy, immaculately carved doors, and billowed back against itself as the ice seemed to resist the heat. But the fire was endless, every single wave breaking against the ice only to return stronger than before. The staircase and doors glittered in the moonlight against the flame, impenetrable. It wasn't long before thick droplets of sparkling water began to form against the ice, either to fall to the abyss below or vanish immediately in the presence of that terrible heat.

Tristan felt that heat. It was hard to believe he'd ever been cold before this. The heat wasn't like a soothing fire as warmth seethed into your bones, gradually filling you to the brink. This fire _burned_, and roared, _demanding_ entry as its heat ripped you apart, melting all resistance. All this fire did was hurt. He endured that agony, until it abruptly ended.

Tristan opened his eyes to see another monster, one he'd seen lying defeated earlier, roar as it lifted the man above its head, cutting off that awful stream of fire. This one was made of ice and shattered crystal, and as he watched, the man merely turned his terrible heat against this new target. The monster roared as it sunk to the ground, and the man seemed to grin as he turned his back to Tristan and the castle to concentrate his full attention on the miserable beast. Tristan stared at the man's exposed back, and for the second time that day, decided to do something extremely stupid.

**Elsa**

Elsa stared down in horror at the display unfolding beneath her. Some monster was below, and impossibly, like her, had powers. It was everything she had ever hoped for and dreamed of. There was someone like her. He had walked out of her storm, a single flame balanced above his palm as he had calmly regarded her castle. She had felt such hope in that moment of realization, taking such comfort in the knowledge that there was another. But this man was a monster, his power of fire vicious and violent, not at all like the cool refined ice she felt coursing through her body. She had been able to tell, even before she'd been able to make out those terrible eyes. He'd called out terrible threats and insults, and then moved towards the gates. That was when Marshmallow had revealed himself, and when the man had contemptuously flicked her brave protector aside. And now this. He attacked her castle with his power. And her ice was _melting_.

It should have been impossible. It had never melted in all of her years, even in the full force of summer. It was magic. But now if failed her before the greatest threat she had ever known. She clutched the railing of her balcony as she stared down at the catastrophe, Olaf standing anxiously off to the side. She pressed a hand to her middle, and felt a ridiculous urge to bend down and hug Olaf. To be able to take comfort in something. Oh, how she wished Anna was here. No, she didn't wish that. Anna was safe, away from her, and how from this monster. Elsa would take care of her own problems.

As she watched, Marshmallow suddenly shuddered and seemed to shrink, but Elsa knew he was really just trading part of his body mass to repair his leg. She watched anxiously as he roused himself with surprising speed for someone his size and threw himself at her attacker. That terrible stream of fire mercifully stopped as her protector raised the man over his head, only to begin anew. Marshmallow roared as the flames coated his head, and crashed to the ground. The man turned to him, and fire began to splay from both his hands, outstretched before him.

Suddenly she felt her heart seized in a fist as the other man tackled the monster to the floor. She'd forgotten about him, strange as that seemed. Who could forget such strangle clothes as he wore? And he had refused to give her up, foolish as it was. She was obviously right here. Who else could have constructed this castle? And tales of how she turned away Anna and then Hans and his men must surely have spread by now.

She watched the man raise a fist to strike the monster in the head as Marshmallow lumbered up to his feet. The monster suddenly reached up and grabbed the man's arm, and he doubled over, obviously in pain. The monster contemptuously kicked him away and then raised a hand flickering with flame. Shockingly, Marshmallow dashed forward just as a stream of fire burst forward, acting as a living shield between the man and the monster. He was actually protecting one of them?

"Olaf," she whispered, "What do I do?"

The little snowman peeked over the rail, and then turned to her, "I don't think he wants a hug. Maybe send him away?"

She glanced at him and then back down at them. She'd never tried to work her powers from such a distance. But Marshmallow was slowly melting under the monster's onslaught, and she couldn't allow that happen. She would not allow herself to sit back in her castle and do nothing.

Trembling, she raised a shaky hand towards the ground. This would be the first time she'd use her powers in quite some time. She'd almost been afraid to try again after she nearly lost herself fighting the Duke's men. But this time she _would_ control it. She searched deep inside herself, into that ice that was a part of her, and gathered as much as she could. It rushed into her, filling her soul. She felt so _alive_. She hovered near the point of ecstasy, holding so much of it. And then…she let it go. As it seeped out of her, she controlled it, directed it and shaped it to her will.

Below, a thick dome of ice suddenly rose up from the mountainside, encasing Marshmallow and the man, cutting them off from the monster. He turned, instantly cutting off his jet of fire, to look up at her. If it weren't for her power coursing through her, she felt she could almost be paralyzed by those terrible eyes of his.

"So!" he roared, "You finally show yourself!"

"What do you want with me?" she screamed back down at him as she quickly gathered the icy winds around him, forming them into a terrible storm.

He laughed, and a ring of fire burst around him, pushing back her storm, "I'm surprised you don't know! But then again, you don't know much of our kind!"

Her hands clenched against her dress, and she poured more of her will into the storm. It rose in pitch swirling about the man with a violent wind and shower of icy crystals. For the first time, the man seemed nervous, and he pushed back with an even wider ring of fire.

"You're strong!" he called up to her, his voice no longer mocking but rather focused, as if it were taking all of his power to hold her back, "But I guarantee you! I am the stronger of us two!"

And Elsa knew it. He was slowly pushing her back, despite all of her power and attention focused on building the storm. She was dimly aware of Olaf clinging to a pillar of ice as the wind roared around her, whipping her braid up into the air. She grit her teeth, and drew even more on the power inside her, trying to force him back. It roared into her, but she began to feel shivering pinpricks of ice piercing her skin, tingling. But she was still losing ground, his power slowly overwhelming hers. She began to feel a sense of panic. What if she couldn't beat him? Fire and ice were opposites, was it even possible for her win?

It didn't seem so, not this way. If she was to defeat him, it wouldn't be through brute force. She'd have to surprise him. She concentrated, pulling more power into the storm but also preparing another attack. The pinpricks of ice became daggers, and she felt pain race across her skin as she drew deeper and deeper upon her power. Right before she didn't think she'd be able to take anymore, she released. The man below let out a strangled shriek as he was suddenly launched into the air by an angled tower of ice that erupted beneath his feet from the icy mountainside. He rocketed through the air, into the abyss below her castle. He howled in fury as her storm subsided, until she could hear nothing but the common mountain winds.

She shook, and then nearly collapsed, holding the balcony railing for support. She panted, her hair disheveled and legs wobbly. She was so very tired. Olaf came forward and lightly tugged on her dress.

"Elsa? Are you ok?"

She spared a smile for the little snowman, "I'm fine, Olaf. Just a little tired, that's all."

He looked up at her with big eyes, "Were you scared?"

She looked out below at where the man had stood, and the patches of snow burned away to expose the icy mountainside, "Yes."

Her eyes traveled to the dome she'd created and she turned to head down to the gates, nearly stumbling before Olaf hurried up to offer her support.

"I need to get down there, Olaf," she told him.

He nodded, and they made their way down through her palace as fast as they could, Elsa using Olaf and the staircase railings for support most of the way. She pushed open the doors of her castle a few minutes later, and emerged into the frigid night air. The cold was welcoming to her, inviting. She'd never felt its sting like others had. Instead she drew it in deeply, almost greedily, like a man dying of thirst. The ice rushed into her, strengthening her limbs and washing away her fatigue. She laid a hand on Olaf's arm, then strode down the final staircase towards the dome herself. She waved a hand, and the structure fell away.

Marshmallow looked up at her as the ice fell away back into the surrounding snow, leaving faint glimmering particles hovering in the air where the dome had once been. He seemed to reach out for her, but stumbled as he tried to walk on melted legs. She immediately drew on her power again, releasing it and directing it to rebuild her guardian's wounded body. Once she was finished, she felt the fatigue rush back into her, but at least she was still standing. She laid a hand against his side to convey her thanks, and the enormous snowman nodded before he lumbered off to return to his post before her castle. Then she turned her attention to the boy.

He was cute, if in a rugged sort of way. Not handsome, but honest. A strange first thought to have at the time, but that was what chose to spring into her mind first anyway. More pressing however, was his state of health. He shivered, unconscious in the cold. A terrible burn in some strange pattern encircled his left forearm, and there was a smoldering hole that reeked of burnt flesh in his side. He was dressed in strange garments, with a soft, silky shirt and trousers that were rough to the touch. He wasn't a boy really, she realized as she lifted his head to examine it for any injuries, only a year or two younger than her.

She suddenly gasped, and threw herself backward away from him. She had been _touching_ him. Who knows what she could have done to him? She was still struggling to control her powers. She had to remember why she'd run away here, why she'd set Anna away from her in the first place. She was a danger to everyone around her. She _had_ to remember that. But without help, she was certain that this man would die. If not from his grievous wounds, then from the cold. Wasn't it her duty to protect her subjects? _But you gave up the crown_, a voice seemed to whisper in her head. It was still up there in her castle, locked away inside a vault of ice she'd created so she would never have to look at it. Look at it and remember how she'd abandoned her people. _It was to protect them_, the voice continued, _besides, he certainly isn't from around here if he's dressed the way he is_. But she couldn't let an innocent man, especially one who had tried to protect her, die on her doorstep. She looked back and forth between the safety of her castle, and the storm howling in the night outside. She reached out a hand, hesitating a few centimeters from his face. _You'll just hurt him like you did with Anna!_ the voice screamed. She looked at him one last time, and then sighed. Her decision was already made.

**[UPDATE] I made the decision to merge the second and first chapters into one, sorry to those of you who came here hoping to find some new material. I promise you it won't be long now that I'm on spring break. Still looking for a co-writer.**

**A/N: This was a long one. In case you guys were wondering, Anna will show up next chapter along with another certain princess. And to respond to a review, yes, this story will contain Kristanna, but in this timeline, Hans was never exposed, so there'll be a far bit of time and drama before we really get there. It's a supplement to the story, and while Anna will obviously be a main character, my focus is largely on moving Elsa past the block she's created for herself since childhood. That said, I'm still looking for a co-writer as I'm pretty sure I'm absolutely terrible at writing Anna's character. If any of you are interested in helping out, please contact me, I'd really appreciate it. As always, please review, it makes a huge difference.**


	2. Chapter 2

**II**

**Anna**

Anna strode the courtyard of the Palace of Arendelle, surrounded by a contingent of guards. She'd first been opposed to the idea of them, but Hans had convinced her after her near-death experience outside the castle. For now, she was glad of them. They were a sense of security in her life, a reminder that at least one man out there cared for her safety.

_Two men_, she thought to herself grimly. She hadn't been able to sleep at night the last week at all, thanks to Kristoff. Stupid man. When she got her hands on him she'd sit him down and give him a good talking to, maybe have Sven sit on him, and then kiss him senseless. Then she'd…what? She caught herself, forcing her guard to stop abruptly. What had she just thought? That she'd wanted to _kiss the man?_ She was _engaged!_ And a princess at that! He was little more than a peasant! Damn the man for placing these thoughts in her head!

The captain of her guard stepped forward quizzically, his eyes filled with worry as he examined her, "Princess?"

She waved him off and resumed walking, "Everything's fine, Captain."

The Captain, only hearing her muttering to herself about how she'd wring some man alive after she'd laid her hands on him under her breath, merely paled and followed after her hurriedly. Anna passed through the courtyard into the castle's halls, struggling to compose herself. This meeting would be important. She'd even dressed up for the occasion, donning an outfit very similar to the one she'd worn during Elsa's coronation night. _Elsa…_But no. That just brought about painful memories. Arendelle need her, and she needed her head clear. Several of the guests for Elsa's coronation had been trapped here when the fjord had frozen over, and one of the least happy was Rapunzel, Crown Princess of Corona. She had sent letters demanding this meeting several times over already, and Anna had managed to come with an excuse every time so far. But Hans had finally convinced Anna that she needed to stop avoiding this, and last night she'd realized he was right.

So here she was, poised outside of the audience chamber, hand hesitating before the doorknob. She suddenly spun and looked to the Captain.

"Do I look pretty?"

He sputtered, "What?"

She frowned and bent down, trying to examine her reflection in the man's brightly shined breastplate, "Do I look pretty? Like a queen?"

The man squirmed as she continued to examine herself through his armor, "I'm afraid I don't understand, Your Majesty."

Anna straightened and sighed, "Do I look like Elsa?"

The man stilled, "Of course, my lady."

She nodded sadly, "Good."

Then she turned and spun the door handle, striding into the room. Her eyes fell on a pretty woman in a pale pink dress, who was reading a book by the fireplace. She looked up and smiled as Anna came into the room, and across the way a door to a bedchamber opened and a strong, tall man strode out angrily.

"Finally! It's about time you got here!" he sputtered, walking to the center of the room imposingly.

"Eugene!" the woman sitting by the fire scolded him, her green eyes narrowing.

He turned to her, "I'm sorry, Rapunzel, but don't you think-"

"No," she stood up, resting her book on the table beside her, then walking over to Anna and placing a hand on her shoulders, "Don't worry about him. He just wants to go home. I'm sorry he sent all of those letters to you."

Anna blinked, "That wasn't you?"

Rapunzel laughed, "Heavens no! He just wants to get back before Maximus eats all of our apples!"

Eugene walked up, his eyes narrowing, "You don't know that horse like I do."

Anna watched them, mystified. She'd expected to have to come in here and be forced to listen to them complain to her about the situation, but instead they were only worried about…apples? She was suddenly very glad she hadn't sent Hans down here.

"So…" she started, letting the word hang.

"We've been keeping busy while we're here," Rapunzel told her, "Arendelle has a magnificent library. It's much bigger than the one back home in Corona. And your countryside is absolutely gorgeous."

"Thank you," Anna said warmly, "I've never been to Corona, but I'm sure it's beautiful there. And if there's anything you need while you're here, don't hesitate to ask."

Eugene pursed his lips and shared a glance with Rapunzel, "Well, there is one thing. We ran out a couple days ago, and we're going crazy without it."

"What?"

Rapunzel smiled sheepishly, "Do you have any extra chocolate?"

Anna smiled back. She had a feeling she was going to end up liking these two.

**Elsa**

Elsa studied the man lying on the bed in front of her. He was still unconscious, although she couldn't tell if it was from his time in the cold outside, or his grievous burns. She'd removed his strange shirt, so she could examine the burn in his side, but she still wasn't sure how she could help him. Not when she was still terrified to even touch him. They were in Olaf's room, in the upper wing of her castle. She had sent the little snowman out to the trading post for food and supplies as she often did after she had Marshmallow carry the man up here. She hoped that some more blankets and maybe a fire with some warm soup would bring the man out of his sleep. But until Olaf returned, she waited.

She studied him, cocking her head to the side as she examined him quizzically. Who was he? He certainly wasn't from around here, not by the way he dressed. She looked again at the strange image on his shirt. What in the world was "Nike"? He was strong and in shape, but that could mean anything from him being a farmer who worked every day in the field to a nobleman who kept himself fit for the sport of it. He had dark hair, which wasn't uncommon in her kingdom, although she couldn't determine his eye color without physically opening them while he remained unconscious. Besides, who knew what she could do to him if she touched him?

She shivered, imagining what would happen if she let her powers get out of control. She could very well hurt with just a single touch, maybe freeze him solid. This was why she'd run away. She was a danger to everyone around her. Couldn't Anna and the others see? Her parents had understood. They knew the risk she presented to anyone who she had contact with. They knew the danger she posed to even them. She'd been terrified every time they came near her, terrified she hurt them. She couldn't even give her own mother a hug without being afraid she'd freeze her over. So she'd dreaded those meetings. But also cherished them. There were two people in the world who knew the danger, and come for her anyway. Because they loved her. She'd had two people who were always there for in her isolation. Not anymore. They were gone, ripped away from her, like everything else.

A part of her wished that someone like that would come to her again, that maybe Anna would brave the danger to be with her. She had, in a way. But Elsa had pushed her away, because that was too selfish of her to risk someone like that. Elsa could deal with isolation. She had done so her entire life. She wouldn't endanger Anna or anyone else just for a trivial chance at her own selfish vision of happiness. She wasn't even sure she deserved to be happy. Especially not after today. Was that what she was destined to become? A monster like that other man? Her eyes replaced by fire? No. She wouldn't let it happen. She would _not_ become the monster they all feared her to be.

Olaf came bustling in the door, giggling to himself, his arms laden with firewood, disrupting her thoughts. Elsa jumped up to him, helping to arrange a pile of the wood in the fireplace and stack the rest in the corner.

"How'd it go? She asked him.

He gave her a loopy grin, "I got the firewood, food, and all the other stuff too! I even found chocolate! And a carrot for Sven when they come to visit us!"

"Olaf," she began slowly, "I don't think they're going to come visit for a while…"

He laughed, "Don't be silly! Of course they will! How can you stay away from someone who loves you?"

Elsa didn't answer, disturbed. What if Anna did come back? Would she have the strength to send her away a second time, to protect her? Or would she be too weak? She prayed she'd never find out.

Olaf tottered over to the man in the bed, leaning down close to his face to study him with his wide eyes. For an absurd moment Elsa thought he was going to poke him.

Olaf sniffed, twitching his carrot nose, "He smells better than Kristoff."

Elsa abruptly let a giggle at the random comment. Not for the first time, she thanked the Creator for giving her this little adorable snowman.

Olaf turned his head to look up at her, finished examining the man, "Is he still sleeping?"

She sat down on the bed beside the man, one hand hesitantly hovering over him, "He's not asleep, Olaf. He's hurt."

"Well how do we wake him up?"

"I don't know," Elsa said, troubled. How was she going to heal him? The best idea she'd had so far was a fire and soup, and while that might help with the cold, it certainly wouldn't do anything about his burns. How was she going to do this?

"Maybe you could use your magic?"

"What?" she asked, spinning towards the snowman, "How could you say that? We have no idea how badly that would hurt him! Why would you even ask that?"

"Well," Olaf began, waggling his stick arms, "You made me, right? So your powers can't just be making sharp icy sticks and storms and stuff. Maybe you could make him a snowman!" he finished, smiling brightly.

"No, I don't think that'd work," she said quietly. But he did have a point. She had been able to create him and Marshmallow. Maybe there really was more to her powers than she thought. But to use them on him, on another person? That was exactly why she'd come here, what she'd run away from! Who knew what would happen to him, what damage she could cause! But if she didn't do this, she wouldn't know what else to do. She felt her breath begin to hitch in her throat as a rising sense of panic threatened to overwhelm her. Oh God, she was really going to do this, wasn't she?

Trembling, she extended both of her hands out over the wound in his side, and then seized her power. It slammed into her like a tidal wave, threatening to overflow her very soul. She was fearless like this, with such power rushing through her very being, bringing her to point the sweetest ecstasy she'd ever encountered. She felt as if she could do anything. And that terrified her. The power inside of her roared and reared, demanding to be released, to be used in something. She panicked, snatching her hands back and holding them to her chest as she hunched over herself. Olaf started forward, but she waved him off. She needed to control this, or else it would break free, hurting everyone around her. She struggled with that torrent of power, wrestling with it for what seemed like eons before she finally had it under some semblance of control. It still roared through her, but it no longer felt as if she were bursting at the seams, so long as she concentrated. She slowly extended her hands, trembling, and placed them on the man's burn in his side. Nothing happened.

She breathed a sigh of relief. She had it under control, for now at least. She paused, then worked blindly, using her instincts. Careful to not release anymore than was necessary, she slowly let her icy power flow from her cool fingers into his blistered skin. He groaned, slightly rolling his head, but he didn't wake up. A disc of pale blue energy formed around his wound, and she carefully kept pouring more of her power into it until it glowed a brilliant color, and then pulsed and faded into his skin. When it had disappeared, it left behind nearly unblemished skin, only a small white outline of scar tissue surrounding where the wound used to be.

"You did it," Olaf whispered.

"I did," she whispered in amazement, feeling a sudden rush of relief, shock, and pride storm into her. She hadn't thought she'd been able to do that. She'd touched him, and not only had she not hurt him, she'd _healed_ him! Feeling confident now, she turned and placed her hands on the strange pattern of the wound that encircled his arm. She thought she knew what to expect this time, which was why it was such a shock for her when her hands made contact with his skin.

As soon as she touched his burn, her power flooded back into her. She panicked again, trying to cut off the flow, but it kept raging into her like a torrent of lightning. She tried to pull her hands away, but they stuck fast to the man's skin as if they had been locked in place. A thin line of the same blue energy appeared, tracing the strange pattern of the burn around the man's arm. Suddenly, she felt her power being drained out of her, as if the dam holding her magic in had suddenly burst. The blue line of magic suddenly burst alive with a brilliant light, forcing both Elsa and Olaf to turn their heads away, and piercing through Elsa's eyelids even when she closed them. Her power roared into that light, and she felt herself unwillingly drawing even more of her magic, nearly as much as she had earlier. Those daggers of ice returned, piercing her entire body in pain, and she felt her breath grow short. And then, suddenly, it was over.

The light faded, and Elsa jumped back as her hands suddenly became unglued, her power fading as she let it dissipate. She raised a hand before her, blinking to dispel the remnants of the brilliant light. When her vision cleared, she looked down at the man and gasped. Where the man's burn had been, a now brilliant, reflective surface of crystal ran along the same lines and pattern as the burn once had. It shone softly, a golden glow running along the lines inside the crystal, as if she were looking through a cover of glass at sunlight. Cautiously, she laid a shaking hand atop the strange ice she had created, and felt only smooth skin. Horrified, she raised a hand to her mouth and stepped back. What had she done?

**A/N: Second chapter down. As always, please review, it really helps for motivation. I'm still looking for a co-writer, as I definitely feel as though my writing from Anna's POV is off, although I did my best here. Please contact me if you're interested in helping out. A few people have done so already, and while I haven't even begun choosing at all yet, I'm hoping for a few more people to talk to me before I start narrowing down the candidates. So if you're just interested in helping out yourself, or want to suggest someone you think would be great for the role, please contact me. Again, thanks for reading, and happy Easter.**


	3. Chapter 3

**III**

**Tristan**

Tristan woke up in heaven. There was warmth, his wounds didn't hurt, and he was lying in an extremely comfortable bed. Which meant that he wasn't outside, freezing his toes off, crying from his burns. So as far as he was concerned, this counted as heaven.

He opened his eyes slowly to see a massive chandelier of crystal twinkling over his head. He stared at it for a minute, not understanding why he appeared to be inside a room made completely out of ice. Then he remembered what had happened. Last thing he could recall, he'd been lying outside in the storm as some massive snow monster had protected him from some crazy fire-wielding monster. Then he'd passed out. Yeah, that sounded pretty messed up in his head, and he was certain it'd only sound stupider out loud when he tried to explain it to his mom whenever he got home. Which reminded him that he had absolutely no idea where he was. His eyes opened wider and they struggled to dart around the room. He saw a fire burning warmly to the side, somehow not turning the icy fireplace into a puddle. He was in a real bed, at least, with real blankets. And there was food on a small table to the side, several carrots and mountains of chocolate. Weird.

He groaned as he sat up, the sheets falling down. He was as tired as he was last year after finishing the LA marathon, but his wounds didn't hurt. He must be in the ice castle he'd seen outside. The entire place sparkled, providing its own brilliant light, explaining the absence of a light switch. Someone had removed his shirt, but at least they'd left his jeans on. That would have been embarrassing, waking up in the middle of nowhere without any clothes. He moved to get out of the bed, placing his arm on the bedstand for support, and then froze.

There was something wrong with his arm. Where his burn had once been, there glittered some brilliant, pulsing crystal in some strange pattern. He stared at it, eyes wide, and struggled not to pass out again. He failed. When he woke up again, it was hard not to hyperventilate. It didn't hurt, but it took him a long while to convince himself to touch it. It just felt like regular skin. It certainly wasn't though. He held his arm up in the air, turning it back and forth. The crystal reflected a brilliant sheen, and lines of gold light seemed to run through its pattern, glowing softly, almost like veins. He'd never seen anything like it, not even in one of the many crazy sci-fi movies he'd seen.

He slowly lowered his arm and stood up from the bed, still struggling not to freak out. The world spun around him as a wild sense of vertigo seized him and he clutched the bedstand for support. He needed answers. Particularly about his arm, but it'd also be nice to know where the heck he was and how he'd shown up in the middle of a snowstorm in the first place. He wasn't dead, so that meant someone had driven the monster from earlier away. His best guess was the Snow Queen the man had been rambling about. He needed to find her, and seeing as he was inside a castle made out of ice, he figured he was on the right track. He laced on his shoes and quickly grabbed his shirt from the nearby table and slipped it on, grimacing as he noticed the singe marks and burnt fabric. This had been one of his favorite shirts. He hesitated, and then stuffed a piece of chocolate in his mouth. He was hungry after all.

He opened the door and strode from the room into an icy hallway, the crystal in his arm glittering nearly as much as the hallway itself. The whole place was damn near blinding. It was chilly, but the refreshing kind, not at all unbearable. Surprisingly comfortable, for a castle made of ice on top of a mountain in the middle of a snowstorm. All the same, he would have preferred to have a jacket though. He was surprised however, to find the ice wasn't even slippery, but actually rather stable. Benefits of magic ice he supposed. Didn't melt, didn't make you slip…what next?

The answer, as he opened the door at the end of the hallway to a massive central chamber, was apparently talking snowmen. His jaw dropped as he watched a miniscule snowman in an apron shuffling around the room, singing and humming to himself as he dusted various objects, most made of ice. His eyes bulged, and he stared incredulously for a good couple minutes, trying to process it all. Maybe he'd hit his head at some point out there, or he was just plain going crazy. His mind was already reeling from one abominable snowman and a fire-wielding monster, and now he had to deal with midget, singing snowmen butlers? He figured it was the sheer incredulity of it that shocked him. As if his experiences earlier hadn't been enough, but this? Really?

He quietly closed the door behind him and cautiously crept up behind him. The snowman continued dusting, still humming and singing to himself, occasionally moving about in some awful attempt at a dance. A small cloud hovered above him, following him wherever he went and constantly raining down a thin blanket of snow. Finally, he caught sight of Tristan standing there. His eyes went wide and he dropped his duster as he tore off his apron and waddled toward him at a hurried pace. He pulled up short just before Tristan, a wide smile breaking out across his face.

"You're awake! Hi! I'm Olaf! And I like warm hugs!" he waddled forward, his twig arms extended as if he actually expected Tristan to give him one.

"Hi," he responded, drawing the word out as he tried to convince himself that yes, he actually was having a conversation with a living snowman, "I'm Tristan. And uhh…I like football, I guess. Are you sure your name's not Frosty or something?"

"Nope!" he replied, beaming, "It's Olaf!"

"And you don't have a magic hat?"

"Nope!"

"Or broom?"

"Nope! But I do have a duster!"

"Right," Tristan responded dubiously, "And you have a maid's outfit."

"It's an apron!" Olaf cried back, still smiling. Tristan was beginning to think it wasn't possible for the little snowman to do otherwise, "Elsa gave it to me after I asked!"

"Elsa?"

"Ohhhh, that's right! You two haven't met yet." He replied, eyes going wide as if he had just remembered something obvious. He probably had, in a way.

"Who's Elsa?"

"Come on!" the snowman cried as he waddled off towards one of the many hallways leading off from the chamber, "I'll introduce you!"

Tristan had no choice but to follow him. They passed through a large set of ornately carved crystal doors into another icy hallway. This one was shorter than the one before, and didn't have any doors besides another pair at the end. Tristan examined the decorated walls as they walked, Olaf babbling to himself. Several mosaics of different people covered the walls, created and ornately framed by ice. Beautiful flowers also carved from ice were arranged in several vases, some created from crystal like the rest of the castle, others made of normal material like porcelain. It was strange, as with the other few normal objects he'd seen already such as his bed, to see something so familiar clashing with the icy walls of the palace. The castle was certainly beautiful if not strange, though in his opinion it could have used some windows. He hadn't seen any of those so far. When they reached the doors at the end of the hallway, Olaf knocked, but didn't wait for permission before opening the doors. Tristan's eyes started to sweep the majestic bedchamber, but immediately stopped dead when they reached the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen.

She was gorgeous, with strong but delicate features, platinum blonde hair, and twinkling blue eyes as brilliant as the crystal beneath his feet. She was, like everything else, encased in an incredible gown of ice. Slender, with pale skin and a light dusting of freckles, her rosy cheeks still seemed to give an incredible sense of warmth despite the ice around them. He tried not to stare, but it was hard not to when you found an angel such as this. This, he decided, definitely confirmed he was in Heaven.

**Elsa**

Elsa turned from finishing her braid just as Olaf's knocks sounded through the room and she heard the doors open behind her. She found the little snowman leading the man from earlier in. He was quite tall, she realized, seeing Olaf dwarfed by his height. And he did have dark brown eyes, as she'd thought. He still wore his strange clothing; she meant to ask him about that. But for now, she simply smiled warmly and rose from where she'd been sitting at the foot of her bed.

"You're awake."

"Yeah. Thanks to you, I assume?"

She nodded graciously. His voice was deeper than she'd expected.

He raised his arm with the crystal hesitantly, "I'm guessing you're the Snow Queen? And that I also have you to thank for this?"

She nodded somberly, "I'm sorry about your arm. And yes, some people do call me that."

"You're sorry? Jeez lady, you probably saved my life doing whatever you did. Apology accepted, definitely," he paused, "What, ah, did you do exactly?

She grimaced, "I used my magic."

She waited to see his expression change, once he realized what she was. She'd seen it come over all the villagers' faces, the Duke's, even Anna's. The terror once they realized her ability, the horror at the monster they saw. People she'd known her entire life and become terrified of her in a single instant, even her own sister. Maybe that was why she felt such shock when the man's face barely changed. He didn't flinch, didn't take a step away. She didn't understand. How could he know what she was and not be horrified?

He simply stood there, staring at his arm until he lowered it, "Thank you then," he said earnestly, "For saving my life."

Shock and warmth flooded through her. How could he not be terrified of her?

"What can you do?"

"What?" she repeated, still trying to comprehend why he wasn't running away from her.

"What can you do? You know, what are your powers?"

She hesitantly raised her palm toward the ceiling, "Ice. Ice and snow." Cautiously, still not sure why she was showing him, she conjured and released a tiny fragment of her power, directing it to allow her snowflake to appear balanced over her palm. Slowly, she set it spinning, spraying off a light flurry of snow into the air. She watched, transfixed upon his face, as he leaned in towards her hand, his eyes growing wide. How was he staring at her with admiration and wonder, and not horror or revulsion? What was wrong with this man? How could he not see the danger she was to him?

"That's incredible." He said. _Incredible? How could he say that?_

He leaned back, gesturing to all of the room around them, "And you made all of this?"

"Yes."

"Wow," he said, eyes shining at the thought, then turning to point at Olaf, "And him?"

She paused, "I'm still not sure how, but yes."

He let out a low whistle, "Wow," he repeated, "You would've thought that something as crazy as this would have gotten on Youtube by now."

"Youtube?" she asked, not understanding.

He nodded, "I must have had my head under a rock to not see this on the internet at some point."

She paused, "Internet?" This man wasn't making any sense.

He nodded, studying her. She felt uncomfortable under his gaze, but didn't squirm. She was a Queen. She'd been trained in decorum; she wouldn't quail before the gaze of a stranger. But it was still baffling to her how that gaze didn't contain a shred of hostility. Who was he? She needed to understand this man.

"I have a few questions…" she began.

He nodded once more, "I do, too. But I guess you have more of a right to it here. You did save my life after all, and this is your house. Shoot."

She frowned at the strange expression, but began simply, "What is your name?"

"Tristan. Tristan Michael Allen if you're looking for the whole thing."

"And where are you from?" she asked, gesturing to his strange clothes.

"L.A., in the good ol'US of A."

"L.A.?"

"Yep."

"Where is that?"

He frowned, speaking slowly to her as if it were obvious, "In America."

"And where, is this Kingdom of America?"

His frown deepened, "How could you not know about America?"

"I have never heard of it before in my life," she replied, sitting back down on her bed and folding her hands in her lap.

He suddenly stilled, nervousness breaking out in his voice, "Where am I?"

She frowned, "In my castle."

"No. What country?"

"Arendelle."

"Arendelle," he whispered, "where the hell is that?"

She watched him cautiously, "Between Corona and Weselton."

He sank suddenly to the floor, Olaf leaping away in shock, his head coming to rest between his hands. She stopped herself in mid-rise, stifling an urge to go to him. What was she thinking, that'd she give him a comforting hug? She had no idea what was wrong with him, although he was obviously distressed greatly. And she couldn't risk touching him, not only because of the danger she posed, but also because of what had happened last time.

He moaned, "Oh God, I'm not even home, am I? I'm somewhere else entirely."

She rose and knelt beside him despite her inhibitions, concerned. She longed to be able to place a comforting hand on his shoulder, but she couldn't risk it. She found herself wishing for her gloves for the first time since leaving them on the mountainside.

"What's wrong? She asked softly.

He looked up at her suddenly with pleading eyes, scrambling for something in his pockets, "Please. You have to help me. Do you have any idea what this is?"

He held out a small crystal to her, clear, but filled with a golden light. Not dissimilar to Tristan's arm, she realized. Slowly, she shook her head.

"I've never seen it before."

"I think it brought me here," he whispered.

She stared at him, "Brought you from where?

He slowly turned to look her in the eyes, "You're going to have a really hard time believing this story…"

**A/N: Another one down. As always, please review. I'm still in need of a co-writer, so please contact me if you're interested. I'm going to start choosing very soon. Once again, thanks for reading.**


	4. Chapter 4

**IV**

**Elsa**

For the first hour Elsa thought she was listening to a madman. The things he spoke of…they were simply impossible. Metal wagons that drove themselves? Moving pictures? People _flying_? But the longer she listened, and the more she questioned him, the more real it seemed. These things weren't simply fantasies in his head, he was able to explain them to her in detail, even prove to her how they worked in a way that seemed somewhat plausible. It all sounded crazy, but he was so familiar and detailed with them that they couldn't just be a madman's ramblings. And, she realized, wasn't the idea of someone with her powers and talking snowmen as crazy as the idea of talking to some miles away through something called a "phone"? If such things were possible, why not these? She couldn't even imagine most of what he said, but that didn't stop her from conjuring fantastic wonders in her head all the same.

"Tell it to me again," she asked him from where they were both sitting on the edge of her bed. Olaf bustled about busily behind them, setting a table for dinner as he listened in. He had believed every word he'd heard so far, and already yearned to try this "ice cream".

Tristan sighed, "I was just walking down the beach at night. I was bored, I just felt like doing something. I noticed something shiny rolling in the surf, and thought it might be a message in a bottle or some other thing. I reached down to pick it up, and then I was here. Just like that, suddenly in the middle of a snowstorm with this random crystal in my hand. Please, you have to know something about this?"

"Nothing."

"Maybe someone else with powers would? And maybe about this?" he asked anxiously, half-raising his arm.

She pursed her lips, "I thought I was the only with this curse until tonight. I don't even know of anyone else. Speaking of which, what were you thinking?"

"What do you mean?"

"I'm talking about you recklessly throwing yourself at that man out there. He could have killed you! He nearly did. Why would you ever do something like that for someone you've never even met?"

"I don't know," he said slowly, "It just didn't seem right to lay there and let him burn down your castle. Thank you again, for saving me. And I know it's not really my place, but why was he after you?"

She shook her head, "I don't know. Most people stay away from the North Mountain. There's a reason I sealed myself off up here."

He frowned, "You're all alone up here?"

"I have Olaf. He can always go into town for anything I need."

"How long have you been up here?"

"Two months."

"Why?"

"Because I'm dangerous. To everyone around me. That's why you'll be leaving as soon as you're healthy."

"What? No! No way, Elsa. You saved my life. And you drove away that monster! You're not dangerous. And I'm not going to let you stay up here all by yourself for another two months or God knows how long."

She held his eyes coolly, "You don't understand."

To his credit, he didn't break away his gaze as most people would have, "Explain it to me."

So she did. She told him everything, starting with the first time she'd hurt Anna with her powers, through the coronation and Anna finding her here. She told him how she hurt her own sister again, how she barely made it back to Arendelle alive. She told him how she had defeated the men Hans had sent looking for her, and then why she'd done it all, sealing herself off here. He listened to her quietly, and she didn't let her voice tremble once during her story, even when she spoke of her parents. The entire time she maintained a queen's poise, aloof, cold, and distant. She _would_ make him understand. She was a danger to anyone who came near her. She couldn't let him stay; she wouldn't risk hurting anyone ever again.

When she finished, she sat there silently waiting. He looked thoughtful, then his eyes softened and he reached for her hand resting on the bedsheets. She jumped back in horror, snatching her hand away. After all that, and the man still didn't understand the danger she was! What would she have to do to make him understand?

"You can't touch me! Didn't you listen to anything I just said?" she asked him angrily, backing away.

"Elsa…" he began, "You said earlier that your powers were a curse. I don't think that's true. I think what you can do is incredible. And I want to help you realize that, just like your sister probably does. So I'm not leaving. There has to be a reason I showed up on your doorstep, and I think this might be it. And I _will_ prove to you that there's nothing you need to fear."

Elsa listened to him apprehensively. A traitorous part of herself responded to his words. Here was someone who knew what she was, and wasn't willing to turn away from her. Wasn't this what she had just been wishing for? Was it really possible that Anna might feel the same way, that someday she might be able to return to her people? No. She couldn't afford to think that way. She had to remember what she was.

"I…" she began but then stopped, her voice strangled, "I don't think you're right," she continued, her voice growing stronger as she went on, "I am dangerous. Maybe Anna wishes she could help, and I know you do, but I can't risk anyone else getting hurt because of me."

He seemed saddened by her words, "Forgive me if I don't stop trying."

Her eyes narrowed, "You will be leaving soon."

"I'm not going anywhere. If you threw someone like me out in that storm, you'd just be proving everyone who says you're a monster right. I won't let you do that."

Her eyebrow raised, "You won't _let_ me?"

He blushed, and she continued, "What makes you think I'll let you stay? I turned away my own sister. What makes you any different?"

"A couple of reasons," he began, lifting up his arm again, "I'm hoping you're somewhat guilty about this. I think you're curious about where I'm from. That maybe you're tired of being alone up here. And that just maybe a part of you really does believe that you could learn to control your powers."

She paused. Could she really risk letting him stay? And again, could she really sentence him, someone without any experience of this land at all, to the storm outside? She sighed. Just like before, her decision was already made.

"I will let you stay," she began, holding up a finger, "On several conditions."

He nodded enthusiastically, and she continued, "You have to do what I say while you're here. You can't leave the grounds, and if anyone approaches the castle you have stay hidden inside apartments that I will give you. You can't write any letters, and if you see me using me magic and warning you to stay away, you have to _run_ away from me as fast as you can."

"Who would I write letters to anyways?"

She stared, and he shrugged, "It was a joke. A bad one, apparently. And yes, I agree to all of your little conditions."

She bristled at his nonchalance, but let it slide. He was right; she was still guilty enough about his arm that she was willing to give him a few passes. Whatever she was about to say next was interrupted as a loud chime suddenly pierced the air. The both turned to see Olaf in full butler apparel holding a triangle hovered above the table, now completely laden with warm bread and soup.

"Dinner is served, your Majesty," he said regally, the image of service until he sniggered and whispered to himself, "I always wanted to say that. And bananas. Bananas! I always wanted to say that too."

She laughed and gracefully rose toward the table, Tristan following baffled behind her. He would get used to Olaf's quirks eventually. The two began to eat, the silence occasionally broken by Tristan's questions.

"So, do you always get room-service from a talking snowman?"

"No," she replied amused, "This is the only time I've been able to enjoy that particular experience. There's usually a dining hall below us on the first floor."

"Cool. I have to admit, this is a first for me too." He raised a crystal goblet, and gestured to the rest of the tableware, "You make all this?"

"Yes."

"What else can you make? Besides your own clothes, obviously."

She felt herself begin to blush, uncomfortable at the thought that he'd been looking at her. She wasn't quite sure why.

"I'd rather not talk about my powers," she replied carefully, "Despite your own opinions, I still do not favor them."

He nodded, looking disappointed, "Fair enough. What about you, then? What do you like?"

"I'm sorry?" she asked, startled.

He waved a hand holding a glass of water casually, "What about you? What do you like to do? What are your hobbies, your interests?"

She paused. What did she like to do? It had been so long since anyone had asked her such a simple question. A question about her, who she was beneath her powers and under the face of Queen. Back home everyone had been concerned with Elsa the Queen. Very few people had ever asked about Elsa the girl. She was surprised to find she actually had an answer ready.

"I like to sing. And read. I love books. That's mostly what I've been doing here." And she realized, but leaving this part out, she loved creating her castle, improving it. Adding fountains and artwork across the walls. She loved creating something with her powers. She'd only realized that now that he'd asked her about it.

He smiled ruefully, "I can't sing for my life. Tone-deaf. Books are great though. What kind?"

She blushed faintly, "Romance."

"Nice. The big bad scary Snow Queen reads Twilight, huh?"

She cursed herself as she felt her cheeks growing even redder. God, she was as bad as Anna! She'd been trained to control her appearance, and here she was blushing like a schoolgirl! She didn't understand the reference, but she did recognize the tone. She needed to turn this conversation around before she made a bigger fool out of herself.

"What about you?" She asked him frantically, "What do you like to do?"

He held up a hand and started ticking off fingers, "Read. Hang out with friends. Watch TV. Play football. Watch football."

She focused; he'd said TV was like moving pictures, right? God, it was all too confusing for her to make sense of.

"What is football?"

"It's a sport," he replied, and continued after seeing her frown at the unfamiliar word, "There are two teams trying to run a ball through their opponent's goal line, and you tackle whoever holds the ball."

She frowned, "It sounds violent."

"It sounds fun," he corrected, "but that too."

She nodded slowly to herself, "Do you have family, back in this America of yours?"

He quieted, "Yeah. Two little sisters. Mom. Dad's not in the picture anymore. He left us a while ago."

"He died?"

"No," he replied, his voice going hard, "He got up and walked out on us."

Elsa fell silent. She couldn't even begin to imagine what she'd have done if she hadn't had her father. They finished their dinner in silence, neither of them speaking up again. Soon enough, Elsa had called for Olaf to bring him back to his new rooms.

He stood hesitantly, "Do I have to bow and kiss your hand or something?"

She smiled in amusement, "No, that's not required."

"Oh. Thank you, your Majesty, for letting me stay. And again, for saving my life."

He turned to go, and she stopped him with a call, "Tristan? It's just Elsa, please."

He smiled and bowed his head, and she watched Olaf lead him out of her rooms. She waited silently near her dresser, and it wasn't long before the little snowman returned.

"What do you think of him, Olaf?" she asked, studying herself in the mirror.

"I like him." he replied, swinging up on his toes.

_I think I might too_, she thought to herself. She still felt sick inside however. She should have sent him away, he was in danger here. Keeping him close to her was selfish. He'd been right: she was tired of being alone. Yes, she admitted it, but how could she stand herself? She was endangering the life of an innocent man just on a foolish response to her emotions. She should be feeling nothing but that sinking feeling of guilt in her belly. Why then, did she also feel the first sense of happiness since coming to this mountain?

**Jonah**

Snow flurried softly through the air, drifting the landscape into a deep calm. The storm, positioned high above on the slopes of the North Mountain, lessened as it followed the cliffs down into the ravine that lay beneath the Snow Queen's castle. The snow quieted here, along with everything else. The land slumbered peacefully, blanketed by its unnatural winter. A single horse trudged across the snowbanks at the bottom of the valley, carrying a lone rider, Jonah Alhorn of Little Bankriver. An honest tradesman from Corona, he'd been forced to abandon his goods in the midst of this strange winter, and now simply trudged wearily towards the palace of Arendelle. He hoped to find food and warmth there, along with an explanation of the strange events. He would find neither.

He rubbed his eyes, struggling to keep awake in that all-consuming cold. He shivered. Damn this blasted storm, appearing out of nowhere. He knew he should have listened to Josie when she berated him for leaving his coat. Well, he'd been a fool of a man and left it behind anyways, if only to spite the woman. Fool move, that. He sighed and tiredly leaned down a hand to pat his mare's neck.

"Good girl. You just keep on hanging in there and good ol'Jonah will make sure you get a carrot or two before this is over. You can mark me words on that, yes you can."

The horse flicked its ears irritably, and continued its exhausted plodding along, leaving a trail of tracks in the field of snow behind them. Jonah blinked, but it was harder and harder to keep his eyes open. The night cold pressed in around him, his aching old bones crying out for rest, and he was rescued from the depths of sleep several times only by his motion of falling out of his saddle. He knew to keep awake, be on the lookout for wolves and bandits and the like. But eventually though, there was nothing more he could do. Sleep took him, and he smiled into the mare's neck as he balanced precariously in his saddle. Soon enough, he was experiencing pleasant dreams of him back in his cabin with his wife, sitting in a rocking chair with the fireplace nearby. He smiled and mumbled in his sleep, only to be woken awake as he started to slide once more from his saddle. He was dismayed to find that his rocking chair had simply been the swaying motion of his horse, but mightily pleased to discover that the heat pursued him from his dream.

He pulled his mare up short, and pulled off his hat to scratch at his head. The snow continued to fall, but he was warm all of a sudden, no matter the explanation. He bit his lip. Not that he was complaining, but where was that heat coming from? He prodded the horse forward again, mystified. Such as it was, he did not see the snow melt and break underneath him as a flaming hand reached out from the snowbank to grasp at his mount. The horse reared in terror, throwing him off, as its flesh sizzled. He fell to his side, the snow cushioning his violent fall, leaving him unfazed. Fully aware, so he could watch in horror as he saw a monster emerge from the ground and pull his horse down to the floor with demonic hands of fire. Jonah watched in horror as his mount's rolling eyes filled with terror burned and sizzled, become replaced by pits of flame as it screamed. A thin finger of fire raced along the horse's back, and then appeared to sink beneath the creature's skin. It screeched once more, and then backed away from the stranger, standing still, its eyes still smoking.

The man turned then, and Jonah let out a curse he prayed his wife would never hear him say, scrambling away. The man's eyes were the same as the horse: demonic pits of fire, and his face was shadow beneath its hood. He wore blood like a flowing robe, and bursts of fire traveled up and down his arms, one of which was bent at a strange angle. He dragged himself towards Jonah, one foot shattered. Jonah swore again, struggling to push himself away as the monster reached for him.

"What are you?" he cried out as its burning fingers closed around his arm, searing a strange pattern into his flesh.

"The Snow Queen's demise," it hissed as Jonah's screams began, "And yours."

**A/N: So yeah, that guy survived the fall from Elsa's castle, as a lot of you probably guessed. I'm curious to see what you guys thought of the interaction between Tristan and Elsa over the last two chapters. Anyways, please review. Still looking for a co-writer at this point, although this is probably the last chance to contact me. Still, if you're interested, please do. Thanks for reading.**


	5. Chapter 5

**V**

**Elsa**

The next several days passed swiftly in the castle, now that there was another besides Olaf that she could entertain her time with. Though she still felt a burning sense of guilt for endangering Tristan every time she saw him, she couldn't help but admit that this was good for her. She'd been alone for far too long, and not just here in her castle. Back in Arendelle, she'd locked herself away just as much. And now for the first time in forever, since all those years ago with Anna, she had a friend.

True, she was filled with the constant fear that she might hurt him, and was always suffering the endless agony of guilt for allowing him to remain close to her. But she was the happiest she'd been since the night her parents had taken her to that strange valley. So she foolishly allowed him to remain. To be safe however, she still refused to touch him, even for his "high fives", much to his puzzlement.

He seemed to enjoy her company, and she certainly welcomed his. She couldn't help but notice that he still often seemed lost in thought of his home. He had pressed her with questions constantly during the first week of his stay, trying to discover more about his strange crystal and hoping to find a clue towards the path back to his land. Eventually though, he had seemed to become resolved to his fate as he realized she knew no more about it than he. Olaf was always there to cheer him up however, and once he came to grips with his amazement over her world filled with powers and talking snowmen, the two became nearly inseparable.

He and Olaf brightened her days considerably. The three of them dined together every night, and often spent most of the day in each other's company. Elsa would ask Tristan about his home, and he would continue to astound her with the most incredible tales. They often enjoyed long discussions during their walks through the brilliant hallways of her castle, the ice now glittering in sunlight since he'd subtlety brought up the idea of adding windows to her palace. She shown him the library she'd created here, and he'd had Olaf go into town to bring him several adventure stories before he'd run out. Now he and Olaf would go off somewhere else in her castle during the late afternoon hours when she and Tristan had once spent quietly reading. She missed that already, missed him sitting in his armchair across from her quietly turning his pages, missed occasionally shooting glances at him as he read. There simply hadn't been enough books to hold his interest, seeing as she had filled her shelves here with mostly romances. She figured he would have found more volumes attuned to his taste back at the library in Arendelle. A pity their time reading together had only lasted a few days.

She sat in her library now, quietly reading through her book. It was a new one, recently acquired when Tristan had sent Olaf into town to find novels for him. The first time the little snowman had come back laden with even more romances, and Tristan had had to explain to him in detail the books he was looking for before he left for a second trip. Her story detailed the exploits of a princess who had run after refusing the crown of her kingdom, and was pursued both by her betrothed and a peasant that had begun taking care of her as she started her new life. It was quickly becoming one of her favorites.

Such was her annoyance when the doors banged open loudly, disrupting her reading to admit both Tristan and Olaf stumbling into the room. Tristan held a fist of papers in his hands, and ink stained his hands. He'd complained about the quill and ink she'd provided for him a week ago, reminding him he wasn't to write any letters. He acquiesced, but constantly mumbled about missing a "pencil". She was pleased however, to see him dressed in regular trousers and coat of the Arendellian fashion. They were fine garments, better than most wore, that she'd sent Olaf for once she realized he had only one pair of clothes. It'd taken her forever to convince him to stop wearing those singed shirt and "jeans" of his, and he complained that his new clothes were uncomfortable, though she thought there were secretly beginning to grow on him. The other day she'd caught him whispering to Olaf that his new boots weren't really that bad after all compared to his sneakers.

The two of them stumbled up to her and Tristan gave her a wide smile, "We have a great idea," he told her.

She raised an eyebrow in a very queenly fashion, "I was reading."

He continued smiling at her, unfazed. Drat. He knew her too well for her to pull off that regal air now. It was hard to regard someone as royal once you'd set them laughing so hard they needed ten minutes to stand again. It had been a stupid joke really, she thought, looking back on it.

"You're going to love this," he said, laying his papers out across a table near the center of the room, Olaf nodding and bobbing up down beside him.

Curious, she stood up and walked over to them, leaving her book on the armchair behind her. She laid a hand on one of the papers, and was surprised to find they contained various sketches and designs in Tristan's hand, and one very squiggly mass of incomprehensible lines that was probably in Olaf's.

"What are these?" she asked, looking through them.

"Olaf says you guys have skating here, right?"

"Yes," she replied slowly, "Where are you going with this?"

"These are sketches for something we call skis back home," he replied eagerly, "Now that the snowstorm is over, we thought we should go have some fun outside. We've been planning this for days."

"And this," Olaf chimed in eagerly, "is a snowboard!"

She glanced at the random mass of wayward lines and glanced pointedly at Tristan over Olaf's head. He shrugged sheepishly and she struggled to hide a grin.

"So this is like skating…" she said slowly.

"Yes," he nodded, "but much faster. And a lot more fun."

"But it has to be done outside the castle?"

"Yeah, on the mountain slopes."

She bit her lip, "But what about the man from before? He's not dead, I'm certain of it. He could be waiting out there for us."

"You'll protect us," he replied simply, and she felt her heart swell foolishly at the trust he placed in her.

She studied the plans again more closely, "These are designs so that I can build your 'skis' with my powers?" she asked, and he nodded. She allowed herself a small smile of anticipation. He'd explained to her the concept of the sport a couple of days ago when she'd asked what they did with snow in his land. And it _did_ sound fun.

"Alright. What do I have to do?"

**Kristoff**

He sighed through his scarf as he led Sven through the sparse streets of Arendelle. Most of the people remained inside, away from the cold, and he was the only person fool enough to be out here for as far as he could see. Up ahead, the bridge gracefully arched to the Arendellian Palace, surrounded by its walls and gates. Anna was in there. His heart panged, and he sighed again as turned Sven away. Best not to think about that.

He unsaddled Sven and left him at a post outside of a brightly inn with a friendly pat on the nose. Warm light spilled out from beneath the door, promising a fire, and the amazing scent of fresh-baked bread wafted through the air. A sign above him swung faintly in the chilled air, blanketed in snow like the rest of the town. It read "The Endless Summer", presumably the name of the inn. He snorted. Ironic, that. They should probably get around to changing it at this rate. Based off what he'd seen with Anna at her sister's castle, this winter wasn't ending anytime soon.

"I'll be right back Sven," he called over his shoulder as he entered the inn, "I'll grab a carrot for you."

He entered into a warm common room with a fire in the corner. Several patrons glanced at him as he shrugged off the snow covering him, but the conversation in the room didn't lull. He headed towards the bar where a woman, who he assumed to be the innkeeper from the way she eyed him, shined a glass with a rag. He needed new rooms after being thrown out of the last inn, and he was hoping she hadn't heard about his drinking problem from the previous innkeeper. It'd been a rough past couple of weeks ever since Anna had begun shunning him.

The woman's eyes ran him over as he approached the counter, and he gave her his best smile as he motioned for a glass. She obliged, and he offered a silent prayer of thanks as his hand closed around the mug she handed him. It was beginning to scare him how much he relied on his drink these days.

"You here for a room?"

"Yes," he nodded, "And stabling for my mount, if you have the room."

She looked over him appraisingly, "I have space. It'll cost you thirty crowns, though."

He sighed, and raised a hand to his chin, considering the price. He was surprised, as always, to find a thick patch of stubble there. It was funny really, how a man's own beard snuck up on him. He should probably rid himself of it, but he hadn't found the time lately. Too busy drinking, he supposed.

"All right," he said, raising the mug to his lips and sliding over the coin for both the drink and rooms. He really was running low on coin he realized painfully as he saw them glittering there on the counter. She nodded and swept the coins away from him, and even took the courtesy of refilling his mug for him. He blinked, unaware he'd already drained it in a single swig. Staring into the wooden counter, he sagged over in his seat, letting the hum of the patrons' conversation wash over him. He already knew what they'd be saying. It was all he'd done the past few weeks, drink in the common rooms and listening to the rumors of the town.

They'd be talking about the winter and the Queen of course. Three months since the whole thing began, and the people still whispered over it. There'd be men discussing how they'd plant their crops for the next spring, and others talking in hushed tones over the burnt body of the tradesman that had been found near the North Mountain three weeks back. Nasty business, that. Unfortunately, he had bigger rumors to worry about than the story of some poor fool who'd managed to trip into his own campfire or some other like. Somehow, rumors had sprung up concerning himself and Anna. Thankfully, they got most of the details wrong, such as his description. Some fools even said he had kidnapped her on her way to the Queen. That was plain stupidity. It had been a fool thing he supposed, looking back on it. When he'd been rushing Anna to the castle, uncertain if he'd ever see her alive again, he hadn't been able to restrain himself. He hadn't believed that it was possible that her prince could lover her more than he could, that this Prince Hans could have broken the Queen's curse. So he'd kissed her. And she'd responded with such shock and horror, sending him away the instant she was on her feet, without any shred of gratitude for saving her life. He hadn't seen her since.

Oh, he'd tried to approach the castle multiple times, only to always be turned away. Anna refused to confront him, instead merely running away from her problems. And there was nothing he could do. He wanted to believe that if he just talked to her, they might be able to work it all out, go back to being friends at the very least. But then Prince Hans had received word of the rumors, and unlike the ignorant townspeople, he knew exactly who was described in the tale. Kristoff had been kept well away after that. He'd then tried sending messages to Anna through Olaf, but it had been only a few days after Anna had returned to the castle before the snowman had decided to go back to the Queen. Kristoff had heard nothing more of him, except that he occasionally appeared at a trading village several miles away.

So Kristoff waited, drank, and wasted away. He had Sven of course, but somehow after experiencing what he had with Anna, nothing else would satisfy him. He growled as he drained his mug once more. He'd been a fool to ever think it would work. She was the Crown Princess of Arendelle, soon to be queen once she finally accepted Queen Elsa wasn't coming back, and he harvested and sold ice for a living. No wonder he was running low on coin these days. She was with Hans, all rich and smug and lordly. Kristoff was nothing like that. He had a single smelly reindeer and a bunch of rocks for a family, and no title to hold to his name. No one besides Anna even really knew him. He growled and his grip tightened on his mug as he forced himself to accept the truth. He'd never be able to make himself worthy of Anna.

**A/N: Kristoff isn't the happiest person in the world right now, obviously. I'm going to start looking through the people who contacted me to help with the story tonight, but if you're interested in helping and haven't spoken up yet, please do so. I'll probably take a little while as I decide who can write Anna the best, so there's still time. As always, please review, it really helps motivation and helps to draw in new readers to this story when they see the high review count.**


	6. Chapter 6

**VI**

**Tristan**

The three of them trudged up the mountainside away from Elsa's castle, with her in the lead, and Olaf and himself carrying the skis behind them. Neither had allowed Elsa to carry her own up the mountain, which Tristan found to simply be gentlemanly. She had disagreed, stating she could carry her own weight. They'd hurried assured her that she could, and he'd finally managed to convince her by stating that it was their way of thanks for her actually creating the things. He still couldn't believe she'd agree to do this. He'd only ever gone skiing once in his life; his family had always been too poor.

He worried about them still. His mom had always needed him to work a night job to make that little extra bit of cash. He'd spent the first week here frantically trying to puzzle out a way to return, and had probably stared at that damn crystal for days straight. Eventually, he'd had to admit that he had no idea how to get back home. So he made the best out of where he was.

And where he was, he had to admit, was very nice. He had rooms bigger than his entire house in a magic castle, and his roommate was a queen. Not too shabby, compared to his old life. He smiled ahead at Elsa's back as he shifted the weight on his shoulders. When he'd told her she couldn't ski in a dress, she'd nearly thrown a fit. Here apparently, it was still considered very immodest for a woman to wear anything but a dress, even more so for a queen. He figured they'd all have a heart attack if they saw the girls back home. Elsa had locked herself in her room for hours, grumbling as she made herself a skiing outfit: simple boots, pants, and a very cute coat. She'd glared at him very pointedly and warned him what would happen if she caught him checking her out in her new outfit. He smiled again. She hadn't caught him yet.

The soon reached a small level rise, and Elsa turned to him, "How much farther?"

He paused to survey the slope beneath them, and then shrugged, "Here's as good a place as any."

Olaf sighed and let his skis tumble out onto the snow before him, "Finally! I must have cramped up at least twenty times back there."

"Sorry bud," he said absently as he carefully laid his own skis down beside Olaf's. He began separating the pairs as Elsa walked back to them. The skis glittered in the sun, brilliant crystals reflecting off the snow. He shook his head. How could Elsa not see what a beautiful gift she had? He had to make her understand, somehow.

"How do they work?" she asked, crouching down beside him.

He smiled to himself as he hefted one up on his knee. He was actually quite proud of his designs. They were simple, the boards made of ice and strips of leather to attach them to their boots. He turned to her, took a moment to appreciate her beautiful blue eyes, and began to explain.

"You attach these underneath your boots with the straps here. You use these poles here to help you move and direct yourself. You'll kind of have to shuffle at first, it's hard to walk regularly with these things on without tripping flat on your face. You'll get the hang of it real fast, I promised."

She nodded dubiously, and he grabbed her pair of skis, "Come on, I'll get you set up first."

He grabbed one board and bent down to attach it to her boot, but she shied away from his touch. He sighed and looked her in the eyes.

"Come on. I trust you not to go crazy if I touch your boots."

She bit her lip, deciding, and then nodded. "Only because you're not touching bare skin," she warned him, "I used to wear gloves around people back in the palace, so I guess this is alright."

"Why don't you anymore?" he asked as he fit her shoe on the board, and began to fix the leather straps. She still tensed up at his touch he realized, but by the time he moved on to the second ski she didn't flinch.

"I'm not hiding who I am anymore." She replied.

He paused, "Why won't you open Anna's letter then?" he asked softly, referring to the parchment she kept unopened in her room.

She turned her face away from him, and he sighed, helping her up. She immediately moved to take a step forward and nearly tripped, lurching forward and throwing her arms out for balance.

"How do you move like this?" she asked, sounding shocked.

He laughed as he handed her the poles, "Remember what I said? Shuffle-step."

She did as he said, eyes narrowing, "This is what you did for fun?"

He laughed again as he bent down to help Olaf with his skis, "We haven't even started skiing yet, Elsa. Practice while I help Olaf."

She did so, and he quickly finished setting Olaf up, the snowman bouncing up and down in excitement. He turned to put on his own skis, but looked up at the sound of a loud thump and Elsa's muffled laughter. Olaf had managed to fall flat on his face with his first step. He grinned as he bent down to help the snowman up, and propped him on his feet.

"Same thing I told Elsa, bud."

"I got it," the snowman said stubbornly.

He grinned again and quickly finished lacing up his own skis and grabbed his own poles, standing at the edge of the slope.

"Alright. Elsa, come on up here."

She shuffled over, eyes widening once she stopped beside him, "That's steep."

"Not really," he replied, "We walked up it fine, remember? It just looks that way because you're not sure of your own feet at the moment."

She nodded, but he could tell she didn't really believe him, "So what do we do?"

He gestured towards the slope, "Jump off."

Her jaw dropped, "Are you crazy? No!"

"Elsa," he smiled, "I promise you, it's fun."

"Fun?" she asked incredulously, "We have a very different idea of fun here in Arendelle. An idea that doesn't involve throwing yourself off a mountain."

"I'll do it!" Olaf cried, rushing forward.

Tristan hurried reached an arm out to block the snowman, preventing him from hurling himself down the slope, "You can go next, bud. I just really want Elsa to go first."

The snowman grumbled, and Elsa shot him an uncertain look.

He grinned at her reassuringly, "Do you trust me?"

She looked him over appraisingly, and he realized what a big question that was for someone like her, who had shut everyone out. It was a big thing to ask for her, and his heart lifted when she nodded slowly.

"Yes," she said, but then muttered, "But that doesn't mean I don't think you're crazy half the time."

He laughed, "I can take that. But trust me, this is fun. Don't think just do it."

She took a deep breath and turned towards the mountainside, obviously gathering herself.

"This is insane," she grumbled under her breath, slowly teetering one ski out over the edge. The snow beneath it crumbled away onto the slope, and she yelped and shot back, clutching to his arm for support. He smiled at the unexpected contact, especially after all of her earlier displays refusing to touch him even for a high five, but she soon realized what she was doing and shook off his touch haughtily. She stared him down as if daring him to comment, but when he didn't say anything except to give a smile, a small blush rose in her cheeks. She was good at concealing those.

"This is insane," she repeated, louder this time.

He nodded and moved away from the slope, placing himself behind her. She visibly relaxed, obviously relieved she wouldn't have to do it after all.

"Elsa?"

She paused from looking out over the mountainside to glance back at him, "Yeah?"

Her gave her a dangerous smile, and said, "In three seconds, I'm going to push you."

Her eyes widened, and she spoke hurriedly, "What? No! You wouldn't dare-"

The rest of her words were cut off as she was suddenly shoved off onto the slope, and the end of her sentence became an unintelligible wail that was echoed by Olaf's hoots from beside him as he threw himself off after her. Tristan smiled as he launched himself into the air after the two. She was going to kill him.

**Elsa**

She was going to kill him. The nerve of the man! First he makes her wear pants and now this! She wailed in shock as she rocketed down the mountainside, the wind roaring through her hair, flinging her braid out behind her. Her eyes widened as she a large dip ahead, and she desperately tried to turn with her poles. She began to do so, but not fast enough, and she was launched into the air before she crashed back down the snow, resuming her race down the mountainside. She trembled. _That, that was…really fun_, she realized. She began to laugh as she picked up speed, and she heard Tristan and Olaf hooting in the air from behind air as they went off the same jump. Her laugh raised unbidden in her throat, and she unconsciously crouched, willing herself to go even faster.

"No Olaf!" she heard Tristan cry over her jubilation, "Don't cross your skis!"

She heard the little snowman begin to laugh manically and was about to turn to look behind her when a shape rocketed past her on her right. She laughed as she saw Olaf belly-surfing face-first down the mountain, his skis held up in the air on his stubby little legs behind him, poles completely abandoned. She gasped suddenly as a spray of snow rose up from the ground on her left, covering her.

She blinked in shock, seeing Tristan race away from where he had sprayed her.

"Hey!" she cried after him indignantly, and he called back to her playfully.

"You're the Snow Queen! Let's see what you've got!"

She grinned mischievously after him. _Oh, so that's how he wants to play_, she thought. She sped off another jump, hooting just as loud as the rest of them as she was launched into the air. She landed on soft snow, and veered towards Tristan. He saw her and laughed, crouching to go even faster as he sped ahead of her. A sudden thought hit her, and she immediately forced it down. But it wasn't really that bad was it? Surely she could control it now. She'd been practicing using her powers for weeks now. She was certain she could do what she had in mind. And he'd never been skittish around her magic besides, so why not?

Her mind made up, she focused and drew on her power, releasing it into the ground ahead of him. A sharp ramp of ice suddenly appeared before him, launching him into the air. She spotted the moment of shock on his face before he began laughing wildly as he landed.

"There we go!" he called out to her.

She smiled as she felt a warm sense of satisfaction. She'd done it, and hadn't hurt him at all. Maybe she really could learn to control her powers. Ahead, she saw Olaf waiting with a lumbering Marshmallow nearby, and watched as Tristan sharply turned his skis to the side, bringing himself to a stop with a spray of snow flung out over the slope. She copied the motion and did the same as she drew up in front of him, covering him in the powder. He sputtered and laughed, turning to her as he shoved the snow off him.

He raised an eyebrow good-naturedly, "What happened to your whole no powers thing?"

She gave a small grin, "Hush." and his eyes twinkled in return.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?" he asked smiling.

She smiled warmly back, "No, that was fun. You were right."

His grin grew even wider, "I usually am."

She rolled her eyes and waved a hand, "Don't let it go to your head."

He laughed, and she absently picked a small clump of snow out of his hair. He smiled at her again, and she barely contained yet another blush. She really needed to work on not embarrassing herself in front of him.

Olaf sauntered up to them, chest puffed out as he carried his skis, "I think I won that round."

"You cheated." She said gently, and Tristan laughed at the look on the little snowman's face.

"I did not!"

"Did too." She teased back.

"Fine!" he exclaimed, "Let's go again!"

She turned to Tristan, who shrugged, "You're carrying your own skis this time."

She smiled and looked up at the mountain. _Why not?_ "Maybe one more time…"

**A/N: As always, please review. I really love seeing what you guys think of this story, so please take just a second to share your thoughts. It always motivates me to be a better writer and get the chapters up faster, and will be a huge power boost now that spring break is over. So please review. The next chapter should contain Anna written by my new co-writer, who'll be announced then. Not sure how long it'll take, so it might be a little while before then. Thanks for reading.**


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